Palayamkodan Pazham Jam and Boarding School Memories

Back in my boarding school days, evenings after class were the happiest moments we all looked forward to. Not just for the evening snacks, but also for the laughter, chit chat, and fun we shared. We were always super hungry after school, and there was one little joy that made those evenings extra special. It was Maya’s homemade banana jam and it tasted absolutely heavenly.

This was where morning and night prayers echoed, where newspapers were read after breakfast, and where countless memories were made.

When the jam was finished, Maya had her own bold way of making sure her favorites came back. She would write letters to her parents saying she was ‘starving‘ and ask them to send more banana jam, meat pickle, and sugar. The funny part was that she would hand over these letters to our hostel warden, fully aware that sister would read them first. Every time the word “starving” appeared, the warden would get angry, but Maya didn’t mind.

This is my school, and that white building behind the Pietà was my hostel. The place where I spent my formative years and polished off endless pazham jam.

Sugar was her weakness because she loved mixing it with the cup of curd we got at lunch. She would often ask us in Malayalam, “Thayir kazhichal velukumo?” – “Will eating curd make me fair?” And we would jokingly, reply, “Kudumbam velukum by sending you sugar!” – a pun that meant, “your family will go broke trying to send you sugar.”

This is my friend Maya, the one who shared the jam recipe. Also, now I realise eating that curd with sugar wasn’t just tasty… it made her glow like this too!

We would spread the jam on anything we could find, but our absolute favourite was good old Marie biscuits. That sweet and sticky delight turned even the plainest snack into something special. It is funny how a little jar of jam, a bold letter, and a few silly jokes could fill our evenings with so much joy. Those moments were simple, yet they shaped the warmth I still carry in my heart today.

The Recipe that was Meant to be Shared

One day, I asked Maya if her amma could share the recipe. To my surprise, and unlike many who guard family recipes like treasure, her mother happily passed it on. No hesitation, no missing steps. Just a generous gift of love.

This rich wine-red shade comes naturally, with no artificial colors added.

Over the years, I have met many people who hesitate to share recipes, sometimes even leaving out an important step or ingredient. But Maya’s amma believed in the joy of giving. That kindness has always stayed with me.

Why Palayankodan Bananas?

This jam is made from a banana variety called Palayankodan, which has a naturally rich wine-red color. No artificial colors are needed. Interestingly, these bananas often do not fetch good prices in the market. So instead of letting them go to waste, we turn them into this beautiful jam. A perfect example of turning something ordinary into something truly special.

More than Just a Jam

Every time I make this jam, I think of Maya. I remember our boarding days, our shared laughter over biscuits and jam, and the warmth of her mother’s gesture.

It is hostel nostalgia spread thick.

I have shared this jam with friends and family over the years, and it never fails to bring a smile on their faces. Because some recipes are more than just food, they are memories. When we share them, we are not just offering a taste, but also a little piece of our heart.

Would You Like the Recipe?

If you would like to try making this homemade banana jam, I would be more than happy to share the recipe. It is simple, special, and filled with love. People who have already tasted the banana jam from our home, do share your thoughts in the comments.

Over to You

• Have you ever tasted banana jam made from Palayankodan bananas?

• Do you think recipes should be shared freely, or kept as family secrets?

• Which food instantly brings back memories of your childhood?

Under the Same Moon

I stayed in boarding school since I was a child. Being away from home for so many years was not always easy. While the days were filled with classes, chatter, and routine, the nights often brought a quiet ache. There were many nights when I missed my parents deeply. But whenever I looked up at the night sky and saw the moon shining, I used to feel a bit better.

Taken at 7 pm, but the daylight still lingers.

I would tell myself, “My parents must be looking at the same moon from miles away.” That thought gave me comfort. It felt like the moon was the one thing connecting us, even when we were far from each other. It felt like a quiet bridge between our hearts. That soft silver light became my silent companion, gently reminding me that love has no limits.

At 7:28 PM, twilight gave way to moonlight.

Tonight, when I stepped outside for an unplanned dinner with my brother and cousin, I happened to see the moon again. That same comforting feeling returned, but this time, it felt even deeper. Now, when I look at the moon, I think of all the people I love and all the people who love me, no matter where they are in the world. Friends, family, and even those I do not meet often. We are all under the same sky, sharing the same moment.

Paused for paniyaram – The moon followed me.

The moon has a special way of making the world feel smaller and warmer. It shows me that distance only exists on the outside. Inside, love, memories, and connection move freely, faster than anything else. The same moonlight that touches me tonight is touching those I care about too, wrapping us all in a quiet and gentle connection.

So the next time you miss someone, try looking at the moon. Maybe they are looking at it too. And maybe, just like it did for me all these years, the moon will carry your thoughts to them.

Stopped for dosa and she followed me there too.

Do you ever think of someone when you see the moon?
Have you felt a little less alone when you looked up at the sky?
Who do you feel closest to when the moonlight shines gently around you?

The moon is always there, softly reminding us that love can reach across any distance.